It Came To Me On Midnight, Here
		(luckily, not by Edmund H. Sears)

It came to me on Midnight, here,
That well-known itch of old,
To sail about the salty sea,
And plunder lots of gold;
Peace on dry land, but once you sail,
You're signed up for P-v-P..
The notice board in stillness lay,
As I was chasing bling.

Still through the cloven waves I come
With man'iac sails unfurled,
And still my drunken music floats
Oer all the wat'ry world;
Around each island in each arch,
They hide all their trinkets and rings,
And ever over the alarum sounds - 
"That bastard's out hunting bling!".

So ye, who job and my cannon load,
Your arrows click't to and 'fro,
Who toil amongst the cluttered deck
With powder, shot and wad,
Look now! for blast, and blast again
Come swiftly on the wing.
No rest until we're grappled fast,
To sword-fight for our bling.

For lo! the bots can't team worth crap,
So watch and do as you're told,
For through the ever sprinkling swords
Persists the call of gold.
When peace comes over both of these ships
The victors shall drink and sing;
And the whole crew send back the song
As we take home our bling!